


Be Prepared for Fire.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Boys In Love, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Jim Moriarty is a Brat, M/M, Mycroft To The Rescue, Protective Greg, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: It was just another day in their life together until a mad man decided he wanted to use one to control the other. Anyone who tells Mycroft what to do or tries to use his beloved to control him, better be prepared for fire to rain down upon them.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 26
Kudos: 84
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. Safe Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyricalsoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/gifts).



> Hey Everyone! I'm back! It's been a bit since I posted as I have been working hard on my two Fandom Trumps Hate stories. Here is my first one for the lovely Lyricalsoul. I want to thank her for the continued patience as I work hard on this story. I have decided to post the first chapter now. I have 5 chapters done and thought it was good until a full reread this evening I have found that I would like to make it more. So I thought posting this chapter would help get me on track. I hope you all enjoy, especially Lyricalsoul. Thank you for your bid. Also thank you to my wonderful beta @paialovespie for always being amazing.

**Chapter 1**

Greg slowly pulled up outside his and Mycroft’s shared flat, a bit later than he had planned. He took a moment to relax from the worries of the day before exiting the car and making his way up to the front door. 

Digging in his pocket for his key, Greg entered it in the slot before pressing the 4 digit code into the keypad. He remembered when they were deciding where they would live, Mycroft had made it very clear that certain measures would have to be in place. 

Greg’s less secure flat was therefore ruled out as an option. They decided to find a place together that suited both of them. That had started off their five-month journey to finding this place which, after it was found, had to have all the security measures added and properly installed before they could move in. 

Whatever it took to keep Mycroft safe at this point, Greg wasn’t worried for himself. London coppers didn’t have many people trying to assassinate them in the middle of the night, but “minor” government officials did. Greg huffed a laugh, there was nothing minor about Mycroft’s position. As Sherlock liked to say, Mycroft was the British government, no doubt about that. 

As the lucky man who shared Mycroft’s bed, he’d had to leap out of bed in the middle of the night more than once due to alarms going off in the flat. That was just what you did when you loved someone like Mycroft. Thankfully there was never a threat so bad that they needed to use the panic room built into the wall of their bedroom. 

Speaking of, where was his dashing government official? 

“Hey, Love, I’m home!” Greg called out as he placed his work bag down just inside the door, removing his jacket and kicking off his shoes before heading towards the back of the flat where Mycroft’s office was. “Myke?” 

Reaching the entrance to Myke’s office, Greg paused for a moment listening. He could hear Mycroft’s deep rumbling voice. He eased the door open, peeping in at Mycroft, who stood facing the window deep in conversation with someone on the phone. 

Greg could feel the power that radiated from Mycroft when he was in work mode and loved it. Seeing Mycroft this way always sent shivers down his spine. Mycroft turned to catch his eye, giving Greg a small nod without missing a beat in his conversation. Greg smiled back, before stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

He tried never to interrupt Mycroft when he was working but always made sure to give him a quick “hey I’m home” when he arrived. Greg made his way to the kitchen and began searching through the fridge for a dinner idea. Finding chicken towards the back, Greg decided to make curry while he waited for Mycroft to finish. 

He was busy stirring the mixture when Mycroft stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“Hello sweetheart,” Mycroft whispered in his ear, placing a kiss on his neck. 

Greg let out a groan, tilting his neck to give Mycroft better access. “Did you finish all your important work for the night?” 

“Yes, I’m all yours for the evening.” Mycroft placed a few more kisses before stepping back. “What can I help you with? Anything?” 

Greg felt the loss of Mycroft’s warmth as he moved away. “You could open a bottle and set the table if you are so inclined?” 

“Your wish is my command.” Mycroft gave a mock bow before turning to select a bottle from the wine cupboard. “Yes, this will do nicely.” Mycroft popped the cork, letting the wine breathe, while he reached for the glasses and plates. 

Greg finished the dish, bringing it to the table. “So what great and scary things were you taking care of? Make anyone cry today?” He chuckled at Mycroft smirked at him from across the table. 

“No, not yet. But the day is young.” Mycroft conspired. 

Greg let out a laugh. “Maybe you could just let it go for today.” 

“Now what fun would that be?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he sipped from his cup. 

Greg couldn’t help laughing at the look on his boyfriend’s face. “You are bad, Mycroft.”

“Yes, but you love me anyway.” 

“Damn straight I do,” Greg replied, leaning over the table to kiss the man before they continued eating. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft was curled around Greg, watching him as he snored softly. He gently ran a hand down the side of Greg’s face to where his neck met his shoulder. He could spend hours just watching the man sleep. Which was exactly what he was planning to do. The clock showed he still had four hours until he had to be up. The sun still had a few hours before it would rise and demand that he begin his day. 

Until then he intended to lie here wrapped around the one person he loved more than anything and just enjoy the moment. It would have been perfect, if not for the creaking of the stairs outside the bedroom door. 

No one should be here. The house was fully locked down, and no one should be able to enter without Mycroft knowing. Yet, he could hear the distinct sound of someone moving up the stairs. He uncurled from Greg as he reached for his phone beside him. Sending a text, he shifted out of bed, moving to wake Greg quietly. 

“Gregory,” He whispered in his ear while shaking the man’s shoulder. 

The noise drew closer and Mycroft began to panic. He shook Greg, grabbing his arm to pull him up. “You must come with me quickly, love.”

Greg sat up sleepily. “What’s wrong, darling?” 

“Come,” hissed Mycroft. He pulled Greg unceremoniously towards the panic room. Greg was fully awake now, following behind Mycroft swiftly. As they reached the safe room, Greg turned towards the bedroom door as it opened behind them. 

“Mycroft! Go!” He shouted, pushing Mycroft through the door, slamming it closed between them. 

Mycroft turned banging his fists on the door. “Dammit, Greg!” Of course, the man would try to protect Mycroft but he was supposed to be in here with him, not still out there. 

Mycroft moved to the computer system that was set up in the room to give him access to security if anything like this was to happen. He typed in the code and pulled up the cameras for the hallway outside of their room since there was none inside. But instead of the hallway, he saw the familiar face of a man Mycroft never wanted to see again pop up on his screen. 

“Tut tut, Mycroft. Trying to see what’s happening before I am ready for you. That doesn’t sit well with me.” Moriarty chuckled as he wiggled a finger at Mycroft. “Oh my, you are a fit one. I see why he likes you.” 

Mycroft caught Moriarty’s eyes roaming his body. Taking notice of his undressed state, Mycroft moved towards the shelf that held extra clothes for such occasions. 

“What is it you are after, James?” Mycroft asked as he dressed. “Am I to assume you have disabled my response team?” 

Moriarty clapped gleefully. “Oh very good, Mycroft. Yes, of course, I have. Can’t have anyone showing up and ruining my plans now can I?” 

“What have you done with Gregory?” Mycroft finished buttoning his shirt, stepping back in front of the screen. 

Moriarty looked disappointed that he was now dressed. “No need to worry about your sweetie pie, Mycroft. He and I are getting along just fine.” Moriarty stepped away to show Greg tied to a chair behind him. From what Mycroft could see, he wasn’t badly injured and was tied to one of their own dining room chairs. _So still in the house._

“Oh, Mycroft,” Moriarty tutted again. “Of course we are still here. Where else would we be? Not that it changes anything for you. You still can’t leave that room until I release you anyway.” 

Mycroft let out a growl at the damnable man on his screen. “What is it you want, Moriarty?” 

“Oh have we lost the first name basis? And here I thought we were getting along so well. Well if you insist, I want many things from you, Mycroft, and not all at once. I want immunity to run my business in London without involvement from you or Scotland yard and that is just the beginning.” 

“I can not ensure that,” Mycroft replied. “You believe my reach to be longer than it is. I am but a minor official.” Mycroft wasn’t sure how he or Greg was going to make it out of this night still alive at this point, but he couldn’t grant these things to a person like Moriarty. Greg wouldn’t want him to. Too many people could lose their lives if he was to give Moriarty free rein of London. 

“Mycroft, Mycroft, Mycroft. Don’t you realize that I know just how far your reach extends? You keep everyone from arresting that dear brother of yours. I am not asking for more than you already give him. Just think of me as another brother to protect or else I may have to hurt your little brother and your boyfriend, too. Who knows!” Moriarty’s grin was full of warning.

Mycroft felt his heart drop, he could see the man meant every word. He steeled his facial features, hoping to come across as the Iceman he was known to be. “Your threats will get you nowhere with me, Moriarty. If you wish to be treated like my brother, shall I also have you put away in a nice rehab until you are deemed ready for society again? As my brother is currently undergoing? Maybe I can receive a two-for-one deal?” 

Moriarty giggled back. “Oh, is dear baby brother locked away again? Maybe I should send him a nice care package- one that goes boom. Wouldn’t that be fun!” Moriarty did a little spin, clapping his hands together, laughing before going completely serious, staring at Mycroft through the screen. “This is not a joke, Mycroft. I will end your brother and your lover if you do not give me what I want.” 

“DON’T DO IT MYCROFT!” Greg shouted from behind Moriarty. Moriarty spun around striking Greg across the face with the back of his hand. 

“Keep your mouth shut!” Moriarty growled. 

Greg spit blood out before looking back up at Moriarty. Mycroft’s insides were screaming at Greg to be careful as he watched what was happening on the screen with a stone face. There was nothing he could do from here. Nothing but watch and hope that they all made it out alive. Well, all but Moriarty. 

Greg continued to glare at Moriarty. “You aren’t going to use me to manipulate Mycroft into doing anything for you.”

‘Well, well, what a brave one you have here, Mycroft.” Moriarty came back in front of the screen before whispering to Mycroft only. “Let’s see how long he lasts once my friend has a go at him.” 

Mycroft felt helpless as the assassin named Moran stepped out of the shadows, making his way towards Greg. _No, no, NO!_ Mycroft wanted to rip Moriarty apart with his bare hands. He begged with all his heart that Anthea would notice something was amiss and send help before he caved to save Greg from this torture. 

The free world needed him to stay strong and not back down, but his heart broke into shards, crying out to save the man they loved. 

  
  



	2. Lionheart

**Chapter 2**

At 4 am, Anthea received a message from Thomas regarding security at Mr Holmes’ main residence. The report read that the panic room had been triggered but the cameras were showing no signs of movement in the flat, which had the man worrying that something was amiss. Thus his reaching out to Anthea on whether Mr Holmes should be contacted at this late hour?

Anthea sent a quick text to Mycroft asking him to check in as there was an alarm. 

**Sent:**

Requesting confirmation of alarm triggered. Code  **Lionheart** .

  
  


After receiving no response, she tried calling as well. When his phone went straight to voicemail, she was up, dressed, out the door and headed to the security office in under ten minutes. 

She would get to the bottom of this if she had to go straight to the source. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft dug deep, bringing forth all the strength he had left in his body as he watched Moran circle his Gregory with intent to do bodily harm. Moriarty stood towards the edge of the screen idly checking his fingernails as though he was quite bored. 

His dear sweet Gregory was eyeing the man circling him with a menacing look that would stop a normal person in their tracks. 

“Moriarty, you will put an end to this and let me out of this room, now.” Mycroft could feel his nails breaking through the skin of his palms as he clutched his fists tightly. 

“Are you begging, Mycroft?” Moriarty perked up, raising a hand to stop Moran for a moment. 

Mycroft gritted his teeth. “Let me out.” 

“No, no.” tutted Moriarty. “That is not the magic password, Mycroft. Try again or I will let Moran torture this darling man.” Moran stepped up to grab Greg’s hair, pulling his head up and placing a knife to his throat. “Try again, Mycroft.” 

“I will not lower myself to your games, Moriarty.” Mycroft snarled at the man only to have the screen go dark.  _ No!No!No! _

“Damn it! Fucking Moriarty!” Mycroft slammed his hands on the desk in front of him. Now he had no way to see what was happening to Greg. He stood up so quickly he knocked the chair he was sitting in down hard enough to bounce on the floor. He picked it up and chucked it at the door to the room. 

“Fuck!” Mycroft raged, burying his hands in his hair and pulling to the point of pain. He could only imagine what was happening outside these four walls. He sank to the floor, trying to figure out how to get out or send for back up. 

Sighing heavily, he looked up to see the chair had broken the cover of the control panel next to the door. Jumping up, he moved to the panel, pulling forward what he knew about wires as he worked to open the door from the inside. This whole event had shown a decidedly large flaw in the room’s design. One that he would be sure to have changed once this was over. 

After what seemed like hours, but was likely only a few minutes, he was able to rig the door to open for him. Stepping out silently, Mycroft made his way to the table by his side of the bed where he opened the single drawer and removed a locked case that held a gun he kept, just in case. 

He quickly checked that it was loaded before moving quietly to the bedroom door. As he eased it open, he listened for any sounds coming from down the stairs. Mycroft waited. When he heard nothing, he made his way down the stairs making sure he missed the ones that squeaked the loudest. 

He was not taking any comfort in the fact that the flat was silent. There should be some sort of sound at this point. As he reached the dining room, he paused, fortifying himself for what might wait for him. Taking a breath to steady himself, Mycroft turned the corner quickly, the gun level only to find the room empty. _Damn it all to hell!!_ _Where were they???_

_ No, no, no, was that blood? _

  
  


_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

  
  


Anthea paused just inside the door with her gun in hand as she watched Mycroft collapse to his knees. His hands were fisted in his hair even though one still held his gun. 

She stepped back out, not wanting to surprise the man who was obviously distraught and armed, closing the door quietly. She waited for a second, giving him a moment, then knocked loudly, calling his name. 

After a few minutes, Mycroft opened the door, his hair back in place and the gun missing from his hand. “Anthea, it seems there was a breach this morning, one that resulted in Gregory being taken.”

Anthea gasped. “What happened? Are you okay? Who was it?” 

Mycroft stepped back, allowing her to enter the house. She listened closely as he recounted the events that unfolded during the time that it had taken security to realise they had lost signal from the flat. 

Even though Mycroft seemed in control, Anthea could see that he was on the brink of breaking down. Pulling out her phone, she began sending messages to ready the rescue team and find Greg before Mycroft could fully settle into his guilt. She had the very best out of their beds and headed to the office for a briefing within minutes. 

Finishing her messages, she looked up to find Mycroft back from searching the flat, now fully dressed. “A team is arriving shortly to clean up and collect what evidence they left. Is there anything else you require at this time?”

“No.” 

“I feel like I should say that this was in no way your fault, and you couldn’t have predicted he would go to such lengths.”

Mycroft stopped his pacing and turned his full glare upon her. Anthea stood her ground, lucky this was something she was used to.

“Yes, I could have and yes it is very much my fault. Gregory could be dead right now, and that would be fully my fault!” 

Anthea hadn’t seen Mycroft this undone in the last seven years she had worked for him. He was frantic, his eyes flaunted his inner torment. When Greg was taken two years ago during a case, Mycroft had been steady as a rock, working tirelessly to see him safely back. This was something else, something worse. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft’s fury was immeasurable. He swiftly rained down retribution on anyone he could find. Hours ticked by, which only made him worse. He felt out of control and lost as he struggled to keep the tears from falling. 

Every time Anthea would offer sympathy, he reminded her that no matter what she said, this was all his fault and he would rather she treated it as such. 

Four hours passed since Greg was taken. Six Hours. Eight hours. Ten. Twelve… Mycroft tried not to think of what could happen to his beloved Gregory right now.  _ Was he even still alive?  _

With every passing minute, Mycroft’s anger grew as the guilt of being unable to find Greg continued.  _ How was he going to survive if something happened to his Greg? _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg slowly felt himself shift from out cold to slightly awake. His eyelids weighed a ton as he tried to open them. He began to take stock in his situation. From what he could tell, he was lying on his side upon a smelly old mattress. His hands and feet were bound together behind him in a very uncomfortable position that would wreak havoc on his poor old body if he was here too much longer. 

Finally, his eyes opened, and he looked around the room. He decided that he was in some abandoned house - probably near the river, from the sounds outside. He wondered if Moriarty was still around or if he had just been dumped here. 

When Mycroft wouldn’t play his game, Moriarty was not happy. Greg had watched as Moriarty received an alert on his phone that Mycroft’s team had contacted Anthea. It was only a matter of time before she arrived with the whole of MI5 behind her. They all knew that.

Moran had been the first to look nervous, saying something about not going back to prison. Greg made sure to mention that Mycroft’s wrath would be absolute and unforgiving. Moriarty had decided to take Greg with them as the last kick in Mycroft’s face.

Now Greg had to figure out a way to get free, otherwise, Mycroft would have no way to find him. Even if Mycroft tracked Moriarty down, Greg knew Jim would never tell where he had left Greg. So it was up to Greg to get out of here… _ First things first - find something sharp.  _

  
  



	3. Moran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all still enjoying this story. Just 2 chapters left after this one. Feel free to leave a comment or come chat with me on twitter @octoberisblue. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

Mycroft was at his desk reading the last report from his field agents when Anthea burst through the door. 

“They found him, sir!” 

“Greg?” Mycroft stood from his chair quickly, his heart in his throat. 

Anthea paused. “No, sorry, but they have found Moran.” 

“Alive?” Mycroft rounded the desk, pulling on his jacket, his hands shaking a bit. 

“Yes, though, he did try to take his own life. He is on his way to hospital right now. I have a full team with him and a car waiting out front for you,” she said, opening the door and following him down the hall to the lift. 

“Has he said anything about where Greg is?” Mycroft asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

“I am afraid not, sir.” She looked down at her phone. “I am sure Mr Lestrade is okay.” 

“It’s been 15 hours since he was taken, you don’t know that!” Mycroft replied sharply. 

She flinched at his words, making him instantly regret saying them to her. She was just trying to help, to lift some of his worries. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Mycroft shook his head, pressing fingers to his temple. 

“I understand,” she replied quietly. 

“Still, there is no reason for me to shout.” Mycroft shook his head.

She nodded before walking out of the lift in front of him to open both doors. Once in the car, she instructed the driver to the hospital and began typing on her phone again. Mycroft didn’t know what he would do without her. She had been a rock for him during this time, and when this was over - whichever way it turned out - he would make sure she had some leave of absence.

Arriving at the hospital, Mycroft was taken directly to Moran’s room. The five armed agents standing outside the door nodded to him before he entered with Anthea close behind him. Inside the room, there were three more agents along with Moran, who was cuffed to the bed with his eyes closed. 

Mycroft took in the sight of Moran before addressing the agent in charge. “Has he said anything else? Has he told you where they have DI Lestrade yet?” 

“No, sir, he has not. He had a phone on him. We are tracing its last locations.” 

“Let me know the second you have anything. Where did you find him?” Mycroft continued.

“Trying to board a boat in the harbour. We believe he was trying to leave the country.” 

“Any sign of Moriarty?” Mycroft had to resist the urge to wrap his hands around the monster's neck until he gave up Greg’s location. “When will he be stable enough to interrogate?” 

“The doctor says he is not sure how long Moran will be unconscious,” The agent looked away for a moment from Mycroft’s glare. “Sorry, sir, I will ask again.” 

Just as Mycroft was going to go find the doctor himself, his phone rang. The number was blocked. No one had this number except a few high-up government officials and Greg. 

He hit the answer button, hoping to hear Greg’s voice. “Greg?” 

“Aw, have you still not found your dreamboat? Tut-tut! Time is running out.” 

“Moriarty,” Mycroft growled into the phone. 

“That’s my name, dear. Just calling to let you know that I have involved another player in our game. So much fun to be had.” Moriarty’s voice was light, almost singing the words. “The great Mycroft Holmes is failing at all corners of life these days. You should have met my demands.” Moriarty’s laughter rang in Mycroft’s ear. 

“Where is Greg!” 

“Oh Mycroft, naughty boy, what did I say about using the magic word?” 

“I have Moran. How is that for a magic word?” Mycroft poked the bear a bit as he wrote a note for Anthea to find out who else was missing or involved now. 

She hurried through the task while Moriarty seemed to rein in his anger. 

“If you harm a hair on his head, I will end you.” Moriarty’s singsong tone was gone. 

“I believe I promised you the same thing. An eye for an eye. Tell me where Greg is, and I may go easy on Moran.” Mycroft tried to sound bored, so his point would be well made. He looked towards Anthea, who held up a note for him. It read: SHERLOCK. 

_ No, no, no. Sherlock was supposed to be safely hidden away, recovering from his latest overdose. How did he get out? Where could he be?  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg worked his way across the floor toward some glass scattered near the door. It seemed to be his best chance to get the ropes off. It was a slow, painful crawl to the other side with his hands tied behind his back. It became less of a crawl and more of a wiggle across the rough surface. Greg could feel the exposed wood underneath him tearing at his skin, but he was determined to get free and back to Mycroft. 

As he reached the glass, he struggled to manoeuvre his body into the correct position. He stretched his wrist towards the glass first, which was awkward to find as his hands were behind his back. He tried to use the glass to cut the ropes without cutting his own hands or wrists at the same time. It sounded easier in his head than it was turning out to be. He had to work carefully. He had just begun when his ears picked up the noise of someone else in the house. The stairs creaked outside of the door and his first thought was Moriarty or Moran had come back to finish the job. He tried to hurry and cut the rope faster, trying to get free before they got to him again. 

He could feel that it nearly cut the rope just as the door opened, revealing a poorly dressed man that was definitely not Moriarty or Moran. He looked mildly surprised to see Greg tied up on the floor. 

“I am Detective Inspector Lestrade with the Metropolitan Police. If you could kindly untie my hands that would be a significant help, mate.” 

The man gave Greg a slight smile, kneeling beside him to untie the ropes. 

“Thank you,” Greg rubbed at his wrists where the ropes had left burns from his crawl across the room. “Do you have a phone I could use?” 

The man smiled but didn’t reply. He held out his hand to help Greg stand up. As Greg tried to get up, he realised his legs would not hold him. He didn’t know how long he had been tied up, but his feet tingled like they were just getting blood again. As he collapsed to his knees, the man put his arm around him, pulling him back up. 

Leaning on the man, Greg hobbled down the stairs and out of the building. Unsure of where they were headed or where he was right now or if the man helping him spoke English, Greg decided to see where things landed. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft left Anthea to interrogate Moran. After being unable to get Moriarty to give him a location and finding out Sherlock had disappeared as well. Anthea informed him he was too compromised to do the interrogating himself. He knew she was right, but he still would have liked to get his hands on Moran as payback for what he did to Greg. 

He focused on Sherlock for the moment. They needed to figure out if he was just released from rehab or if Moriarty had him. Mycroft hoped against all odds that Sherlock was just roaming the city and not in the madman’s clutches. 

Returning to his office, Mycroft reviewed the tapes sent to him from the CCTV outside the rehab facility and inside. Trying to piece the puzzle together, he could determine that Sherlock was not with Moriarty but instead just released by him. Sherlock was challenging enough if he didn’t want to be found. 

Mycroft pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing to ease the building pressure.  _ Where to even begin to look for Sherlock or Greg? When will this nightmare be over?  _

When this was finally resolved, Mycroft knew things in his life would have to change. He couldn’t have everything all as he wanted. No, he couldn’t watch out for Sherlock, for Greg, and for his country at the same time.  _ But what to give up? He couldn’t abandon Sherlock, he was family. Taking care of this country was his career. What else would he be good at? Nothing, that’s what.  _

_ That left Greg… How could he give up Gregory? Though Greg did deserved someone better than Mycroft. He deserved someone who could protect him, not let him get kidnapped and beaten.  _

_ Yes, his Gregory was the obvious choice.  _

Mycroft could return to being the Iceman, dedicated to work and looking after his brother... that… that would be enough. He didn’t deserve more. He dropped his head into his hands, letting the tears fall for his lost love. He would take this moment to grieve for what he would lose, then he must get back to finding the two most important people in his life, Sherlock and Greg. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anthea had texted Mycroft that she was having Moran moved to an undisclosed location for continued interrogation. He was resisting, and the hospital was no place for the measures she was being pushed to resort to. 

She followed the team that was escorting Moran from the building, phone in hand as she waited for Mycroft’s response. She had sent him home to regroup, finding he was too close to the situation to see clearly. She had thought he was going to tear into her over the decision, but he had simply turned and walked away. A sure sign that even he knew he was compromised. 

As she stepped out of the hospital doors, mere feet behind the team headed towards the armoured transport, a shot rang out. She spun, ducking beside the doors, gun already in hand, scanning the area. She heard the lead agent shout to her. Looking their way, she could see Moran was down. Shot clean through the forehead. His eyes still open, staring back at her. 

_ Mycroft would not be happy about this.  _


	4. Anthonie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that has joined in on this journey. Just one chapter left as this. I will mostly posted it on Wednesday night. I hope you are all still enjoying the story. <3

**Chapter 4**

Greg found himself in a small flat a little way from the house where Moriarty had dumped him. He wondered about the quiet man who was helping him - if he did this often and if he knew someone was there at the house. He watched as the man moved about the flat, heating water and pulling out tea leaves from a small round jar on the counter. 

Then he brought the tea and a piece of bread over to Greg, placing them in front of him with a smile before going back to the kitchen area. Greg looked down at the food and wondered how this man survived out here. Everything seemed to be falling into disrepair - from the leaking pipe under the sink to the peeling wallpaper, to cracks in the windowpanes.

When he finally got back to Mycroft, Greg knew he had to help this man in any way he would allow. He didn’t want to hurt the man’s pride, but he wanted to repay the kindness. Sipping the tea, Greg tried to decide the best way to communicate that he needed to use a phone or find a way back to Mycroft. 

Lord knows how his Mycroft was holding up right now. He was probably tearing London apart. 

It was imperative in order to save the commonwealth of Britain that Greg returned sooner rather than later. After Greg took a few bites, he tried to assess the damage. His legs were feeling better now that he had moved them a bit after being tied up for so long. With this tea and bread in him, he was starting to feel like a whole man again. 

Looking towards the man that helped him, Greg gave him a smile then tried to get across that he needed to make a call by using his hand to mimic a phone while saying the words. The older gentleman only smiled, shaking his head. He pointed to the door then motioned for Greg to stay sitting. 

Greg tried again to make him understand what he needed when there was a knock at the door. The man went to open it, and Greg pulled himself up from the chair. If it was Moran or Moriarty this man had collected him for, Greg wasn’t going down without a fight. 

“Hallo Anthonie, hoe gaat het?” Came a voice outside the door. A voice Greg knew. But he didn’t know she spoke Dutch or knew this man. 

“Sally?” 

Sally Donovon stepped into the room. “Greg! What are you doing here?” 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second after Sally had hugged the life out of him, Greg begged for her phone. She dug it out of her pocket as she told him about how everyone was worried about him. He quickly dialled Mycroft’s number, as he caught her saying something about Mycroft freaking out. 

“Sergeant Donovon, how can I help you?” The sound of Mycroft’s cold collected voice broke the dam on Greg’s emotions. His voice croaked out a sob as the tears slid down his cheeks. 

“Greg?” Mycroft’s voice went soft and hopeful, almost whispering.

“It’s me, Mycroft. It’s me.” Another sob left his body. How long had it been since he had seen Mycroft?  _ Over 24 hours?  _

They had been in each other’s arms, peaceful and happy before everything had been ripped apart. Greg wanted so badly to be back there right now, to feel the safety of Mycroft surrounding him. To be back in their flat just the two of them, where they belonged. 

“Oh god, Greg, where are you?” Mycroft pleaded. 

“I don’t-- I don’t know, but Sal is here and she is taking-- she’s taking me to the hospital.” Greg was barely holding it together. He had managed well until this point, but the sound of Mycroft through the phone had broken his last thread of strength. “Will you-- will you meet us there? I need you…. God, I really need to see you…” 

“I will be there,” Mycroft promised. “I am so sorry, Greg. So sorry.” 

“It’s ok, Myke. Just tell me, did you get the bastard?” Greg questioned. 

There was a pause before Mycroft responded. “One of them, sort of. We had Moran, but before we could get him to tell us where you were, he was shot. I didn’t… I couldn’t find you or Sherlock…” 

Myke, it’s okay. I’m okay. What happened with Sherlock? Wait, tell me at the hospital. Sal says we need to go and I can’t walk and talk right now. Hurry and meet me, please. I love you.” 

“I will and I love you too,” Mycroft said before hanging up. 

Greg stared at the phone for a second then handed it back to Sally. “Alright, let’s get going, I have a boyfriend to reassure.” 

Sally helped him up and out of the building, but not before Greg had a chance to thank Anthonie for helping him. With Sally there to translate, it went a bit better. Once in the car, Greg leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut. His body felt so tired and weak from everything and now that he had talked to Mycroft, his system seemed to shut down. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft walked quickly through the hospital to the nurse’s station, keeping himself from running the whole way was harder than he thought. “Greg Lestrade, please which room is he in?” 

“Mycroft?” Sergeant Donovan had spotted him as she walked down the hall. “He is down here, room 206. I am guessing you called ahead for the private room?” 

Mycroft nodded. “Sergeant Donovan, thank you for finding him. I owe you a debt of gratitude.” 

Sally shook her head. “It wasn’t me that rescued him, I was just informed to visit an old reliable source, who contacts me when he comes across lost souls.” 

“Well, thank you for your part. Is he awake?” 

“Yea and asking for you. The doctor is almost done, but Greg made it clear you were to come in the second I found you. So yea.” 

“Very well. Thank you again and your friend. I am in both of your debt.” Mycroft gave her a tip of his head before moving down the hall to Greg’s room. He paused only a second at the door to collect himself before stepping in. 

“Mycroft! Thank god, get over here,” Greg sat up in the bed, trying to swing his legs off, against the doctor’s warnings not to. 

Mycroft hurried to his side. “Greg dear, you mustn’t get up. Let the doctor finish his examination first.”

Greg reached out and grabbed his hand. “I am so happy that you are okay, love. I was so worried that once I blacked out, they would hurt you.” 

“No, they didn’t get to me,” Mycroft paused. “Greg, why didn’t you get in the room with me? Why did you just push me in?” This was a thought that had plagued Mycroft since the beginning. 

“There was no time, darling. I needed to make sure you were safe.” Greg squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t live with myself if you were injured and I could have prevented it.” 

“What about you being injured and I couldn’t prevent that?” Mycroft spoke quietly, looking down at their clasped hands. “It’s my fault you are lying here.” 

“Mycroft, look at me. Mycroft?” Greg lifted his chin until their eyes met. “It’s not your fault that Moriarty broke into our home and did this. It could have been worse but we got out lucky.”

“This time,” Mycroft added, his heart breaking. He had only just got here, but now needed to get out of this room before he changed his mind about setting Greg free. He knew that Greg wouldn’t let go of him easily but it was the best for him. “Greg, we should talk about this when you are feeling better.”

“Talk about what?”

“About us. But first, you need rest and I still need to find Sherlock.” Mycroft stood, moving towards the door. “There will be agents at the doors until I return.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Greg growled. “Mycroft, you get back over here and tell me what is going on. You just got here.” 

Mycroft shook his head. “I am sorry, Greg. But it is my fault you are there. I can’t protect you as you deserve. You should have more than I can offer.” 

“Whoa, whoa! What are you saying? Don’t do this right now, Mycroft!” 

Mycroft continued out the door, closing it as he heard Greg yell, “You bastard!” 

He wasn’t wrong, Mycroft was an absolute bastard for hurting Greg over and over. As he stood outside the door, his heart screamed at him to turn around, go back in and beg Greg to forgive him. His mind, though, said this was for Greg’s good and he would be safer without Mycroft around. Just as he moved to walk down the hall, his eyes found Anthea’s watching him. 

“Oh no, you are not just walking away from this, Mycroft.” 

“I don’t believe you have any say in this matter.” He started down the hallway before she caught him. 

“You turn around and march back into that room right now. I may not have a say but he does. You don’t get to decide that for him. Do you really think he will just let you walk away without a fight?” She stood in his path, not letting him pass. “I will find Sherlock. You go fix this with him.” 

She pointed behind him to Greg’s door. “He deserves the right to make his own choice.”

Mycroft knew she was right, Greg was going to be so angry with him but he deserved to make his own choice. Mycroft sighed, hanging his head. He didn’t want to lose the man, he just wanted to protect him. 

Turning around, Mycroft walked back to Greg’s room. He tried to think of what to say that didn’t make him sound like an utter bastard. He took a deep breath outside the door, trying to steel himself for Greg’s deserved anger. 

As he reached for the knob, the door flew open and Greg stood there leaning on a pair of crutches. 

“That’s better, you bloody martyr. If I wanted to be protected in bubble wrap all the time, I wouldn’t have become a copper. Now that you have had a moment, I am guessing you realize that you were an utter cock just now.” 

Mycroft just stared at the man in all of his angry glory.  _ How did he think that he could walk away from this beautiful man? _ His Gregory was magnificent with the fire blazing in his eyes. Mycroft stepped forward, placing his hands on Greg’s face, bringing their lips together. He poured everything into the kiss, all the love he had to show Greg how sorry he was. 

“That’s better, you bastard.” Greg murmured against his lips. “Stop trying to get rid of me, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“I was only trying to protect you, so this would never happen again,” Mycroft replied back between kisses. 

“Let me decide what I need protecting from, how about that?” Greg huffed, stepping back from him, but still hanging on. “Now take me home, I need some sleep and a bath.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather have them wheel you to the front door instead of walking?” Mycroft caught Greg’s glare head-on. “Right, Yes, not fussing. Very well, lead on my love.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit of fussing once we are home.” Greg grinned. “Plus I would really like to know what happened the whole time I was gone. Where is Sherlock?” 

Mycroft walked beside Greg, trying not to hover. “All in good time, let us get you home first. And I don’t know yet. Anthea is working on finding Sherlock now.” 

“Did Moriarty get to him?” Greg asked with a look of worry.

“Moriarty may have set him free of rehab, but my brother is not with him. No, Sherlock just seems to be loose in the city at the moment.” 

“Well, that’s better than him hanging out with Moriarty, I would say,” Greg added as they entered the lift. 

“Yes, quite. Still not sure what Moriarty’s plan was. It would seem he came out of this empty-handed, which makes me uneasy as though this is not over.” Mycroft tried to give Greg a half-smile, so as not to show all of his worry on the matter. He wasn’t sure how things would play out moving forward, but he would make sure that nothing like this happened again to his Gregory.

  
  



	5. A bit of fussing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end is here. I hope you all enjoyed this story especially Lyricalsoul who bid on my FTH for this story. I hope it was what you were looking for. Thank you to Paialovespie for beta-ing this story for me. You are wonderful as always.  
>  <3 Enjoy this final chapter my lovelies. <3

**Chapter 5**

Soon Greg found himself home on the sofa, pillows fluffed behind him and an old movie on the telly. He munched on a few biscuits to the sounds of Mycroft making tea in the kitchen. The whole ordeal that Mycroft had gone through while Greg was missing had brought tears to Greg’s eyes when Mycroft told him everything. At least he had known that Mycroft was out there alive, but Mycroft had no such knowledge about Greg. 

Greg watched Mycroft return from the kitchen, mugs in hand filled with soothing tea. 

He smiled warmly at his partner, accepting his mug carefully. “Thanks love,” 

Mycroft leaned down, pressing a simple kiss on Greg’s lips. “You’re welcome. Feeling comfy? Can I get you anything else?” 

“No, just you,” Greg beamed. Mycroft returned his smile, settling on the far end of the sofa, lifting Greg’s feet to rest on his lap. 

Greg took a sip of his tea, Mycroft always made it to perfection. “Why are you sitting all the way down there?” He questioned. 

Mycroft turned his eyes from the telly. “Pardon?” 

“You heard me,” 

“I did, but I do not understand. I am over here because you need your rest and I don’t want to hinder your healing by laying on you.” 

“Balderdash! Get over here!” Greg rolled a bit to make room. 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Balderdash?” 

Greg laughed. “Yes! You heard me. It’s balderdash that you are sitting where I can’t reach you. Now get over here!”

“Mycroft chuckled. “I didn’t realise you were such an old man.” Nevertheless, he moved closer to Greg on the sofa. “If you start feeling any pain, please let me know. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You could never hurt me love.” Greg reached out with his free hand to hold Mycroft’s. “So tell me what your plan for Sherlock and Moriarty is? Then I would like to talk about helping Anthonie if that is okay?”

Mycroft nodded. “Now that Anthea has located Sherlock and is settling him back at rehab, he is sorted for the moment. As for Moriarty, he seemed to have disappeared for the time being. I have no doubt he will resurface again and we will be ready for him. In regards to Anthonie, have you spoken to Donovan yet about him?” 

“No, I was going to call her tomorrow to see how she knows him and what his story is. I would really like to help him in some way.” 

“I would like to as well, my dear.” 

Greg smiled affectionately at the man pressed to his side. “Thank you, I love you so much.”

“Anything for you Gregory. You know that.” Mycroft pressed a kiss softly to the inside of Greg’s wrist. 

“What would I do without you?” Greg marveled at his love. He was so happy right now that his heart felt as though it would explode. They had battled a dangerous man and came out on top. Though it helped that his greatest love was also a very dangerous man who disliked being challenged. 

As they lay there snuggled up on the sofa, wrapped up in each other, Greg knew they would be together forever. Nothing would break them apart after this. He was going to marry this man. He wondered if they would be Holmes-Lestrade or Lestrade-Holmes? 

Mycroft shifted beside him and Greg couldn’t help the love that must be showing from his eyes. 

“I love you,” Greg mumuered into Mycroft’s hair. 

“And I love you,” Mycroft replied, tilting his head to kiss Greg. “I think Lestrade-Holmes, don’t you? Has a ring to it.” 

Greg laughed. “You would think after so much time together that I wouldn’t still be surprised. Lestrade-Holmes it will be then. When?” 

Mycroft thought for a moment. “Is tomorrow too soon?” 

“No, it's perfect.” Greg pulled Mycroft closer, kissing him with all the love his heart was holding. 

  
  
  
  


_ And it was just perfect.  _

  
  


  
  
  


**_A thousand miles away, in an up-scale flat facing The Spree river in Berlin, a plot was being put into motion. One that could cost both Holmes brothers more than their lives._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out some of my other stories and or subscribe to me for future stories. I have several in the works right now. As always you can follow me on tumblr @bluebuell33 or twitter @octoberisblue. Thank you. <3


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